Blogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. Still in the 'hood, though. Nebraska Avenue, 33605. The stories are priceless and endless.

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Thursday, September 20, 2012

SEPTEMBER 20 PREP FOR BLOGGIESTA - COURTESY OF JESSELIBECAP & THEWORLD4REALZ, BUT FIRST! DRAMATIC SIGHTING OF CRAPWEASEL, THE EVIL EX-HUSBAND

Okay, this is just a quick posty-post to let you all know that come 9/28/12 to 9/30/12, I will be part of the BLOGGIESTA Mini-Challenge, where I will learn to do more bloggy-type stuff. Not so much writey-type stuff. I seem to be soaking that up as I go. All these kind folks are taking me under their wingy-wings, so this is very cool, and I'm kind of a sad thing, because I have nothing to rail at. Actually I do, but I'm kind of in shock. Although the reason I'm in shock has not one thing to do with ROW 80 being down for a few weeks. No, the reason I'm in shock is that yesterday, as I was waiting for the cab to come an pick me up and bring me and our groceries home, I could feel this... presence, to my right. You all know I don't see well. My vision forward is bad enough, but I have almost no peripheral vision, whatsoever. I could just sense something. There really is something to this. I maintain a HUGE distance between myself and other when in public. I barked at some guy in the store yesterday. He was within my comfort zone, which is probably a good 6 foot perimeter. He was going to say something in response, but when I cocked my head, he backed off. People stay away from me.Anyway, I'm out front by the pole barriers and I feel this... creepy-crawly sensation to my right. I look down the walkway and.... God damn! You know that scene in "Alien" where Ripley first finds out the alien is in the shuttle craft? The violins start screeching and she draws her head down slowly. That's what this was like. I backed away. He had been looking at me for I don't know how long. He still has that same arrogant, evil look just dripping off him, only more so. This man has no honesty, no respect for himself, no joy. That son of a bitch was waiting for me to die. He wanted me to die so he wouldn't have to split the community property and he thought he'd move his little trollop, Andrea in after I croaked. Well, I know he didn't get to keep the 2 acres and the house. He was at the shopping center, still doing the same job. His dreams of grandeur have gone nowhere. How else to explain that he's still a Social Worker taking care of kids in at risk homes. What a laugh there. The man with the morals of a madam still working with at risk families on Nebraska Avenue, 8 years after he started the job. He used to tell me that he "re-invented" himself every decade or so. Karma, baby. It's a bitch. Here's what he looks like on the inside:

Itinerant violist and computer trouble-shooter for more years than I care to admit. While no longer homeless, still crazy, but with Labels *sigh* a bus-riding Asperger, bipolar-ridden, PD or non-PD, carbon life-form, providing fodder for Medical community. Not even kidding. Still ridiculous.

Acquiring a much richer and fuller experience and finding deeper meaning in day to day life, than I ever learned in a classroom, concert hall, or computer center. I will never believe that things just occur randomly, just monumentally disordered.

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Eventually everything happens on Nebraska Avenue. The pimps have been here, both the real and the political. The athletes and the artists. It's a life, a state of mind and it's home, Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602 and 33604.

THE DELIBERATE GOALS OF VIOLA FURY

Working on a project involving many flags

I Haz Home Naow - in Kitty Heaven

My Rent-a-Kitty, has become a Perma-Kitty, Mama, although she passed away, nearly one year to the day that Jim died. She actually adopted Jim first, then me.